


Songs For Lost Souls

by KermodeSnowBear



Category: Addams Family - All Media Types, Matilda - Roald Dahl
Genre: Dating, Developing Relationship, F/F, Fantasy, Female-Centric, First Dates, Gothic, Horror, Morbid, Poetry, Romance, Telekinesis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-07-11 12:23:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15972236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KermodeSnowBear/pseuds/KermodeSnowBear
Summary: Wednesday's eyes darted to the card she now held in her black lacquered fingers. “Wormwood,” she mused aloud. “What a lovely name.” ((AWARD-WINNING FANFIC))





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Taken from a prompt on Tumblr and twisted into a fantasy for a mature audience. More will come as inspiration hits. Please feel free to suggest any ideas! 
> 
> Update: this fanfiction won best overall in my local pop culture convention!!

The black parasol was dipped and folded as its owner stepped inside out of the obnoxious sunlight. She peered around the thin store that reached deep into the block it sat on, at the shelves of books that towered above her, and toward the thinly framed creature whom wobbled on a precariously placed ladder. 

“Excuse me,” Wednesday announced her presence, and the woman startled from her work. She turned, a hand poised against the book she had just replaced. 

“Hello,” the store owner greeted before she slid down the ladder rails and approached the customer. “How can I help you?” 

“I need a book,” Wednesday said. “It's a rare monograph of pre-classicism period summoning rituals. And no, I do not wish to spend never-ending hours sifting through the inaccuracies and grossly imagined fabrications that the human race has turned the internet into.” 

The store owner blinked twice before a kind smile found her lips. She stepped around Wednesday and toward the checkout, which doubled as a desk piled high with volumes. 

“And the name of this study?” she asked once she held a pen over paper. 

“Carmina in animabus pereunt,” Wednesday offered with a perfectly trained accent. The bookkeep wrote swiftly, both the Latin and English name Wednesday noted. 

“I'll put my feelers out,” the brunette woman replied, the smile still lighting up her features. 

“You have antennae?” Wednesday excitedly asked. There was barely a brow raised, yet her tone rose by half a note.

“Oh, no. It's a colloquialism, a common phrase of speech.” 

The gothic woman visibly deflated, but she should have known better. Normals were simply too far spread in the world that it was hard to find anyone of interest. 

“Of course,” she replied with a sullen disposition. 

“I'll let you know should someone with such stops by,” the woman promised. 

Wednesday lifted her gaze back up and her lips curled. “I'd appreciate that. Interesting folk don't make themselves easily noticed.”

The brunette paused her speech for half a moment. “Can I have your cell number?” 

“Why would you want it?” Wednesday asked.

“So I can text you when your book arrives.” 

“Ah. We have a problem there. I don't carry a phone with me. I have a butler to take my messages though. You can call the house.”

A moment was taken to scribble down the strangely long phone number, and the store owner then plucked a business card from her desk. “Perhaps, given time, you might find me interesting,” she suggested as she offered the card to Wednesday. “Or you don't have to. That's your prerogative.” 

Wednesday's eyes darted to the card she now held in her black lacquered fingers. “Wormwood,” she mused aloud. “What a lovely name.” 

“I inherited it so I can't take all the credit,” the woman Wednesday now knew as Matilda laughed.

Wednesday only showed her appreciation for the joke with a tiny, brief twerk of her lips. Where most people would take her reaction as awkward and stifling, Matilda only continued to smile.

“Wormwood,” Wednesday hummed. “Uses include quelling stomach pains, excellent for the gallbladder, and possibly linked to treating liver disease. It's also used to increase sexual desire.” Her gaze flickered up and down Matilda’s form pointedly. She wasn't expecting the woman's response. 

“And with enough time and treated correctly can be brewed into an intoxicating beverage. Side effects include dizzying hallucinations and an all round amazing experience. You should try it.” 

“You, or the absinthe?” 

“That's up to your own volition,” Matilda replied. This time Wednesday smiled, haunting as the expression was. As normal as this woman had first appeared, Matilda was quickly becoming fascinating to the Addams’ spawn. 

“Suppose I say yes,” Wednesday started, earning a larger grin from the brunette. “And you quickly find that my melancholic personality is too much to endure. You yourself become drenched in my dejected aura so much that another day on this wretched earth would be beyond harrowing. You become so loathing of everything, including yourself, that you couldn't bear to take another step in any direction but that of your own grave, despite knowing that even there you cannot escape me. What then?” 

Matilda, eyes wide with emotion from listening to the pure poetry spilling from Wednesday's lips, didn't miss a beat. “I've experienced worse.” 

“You should know my last bedfellow angered me so, that I chained him to his own bed.” 

“Then tell me what he did wrong so I might learn from it.”

Wednesday studied Matlida’s expression for a very long moment. There was simply something different about the woman, something alluring and enchanting, something Wednesday hadn't come across before. Past lovers were usually fleeting and frequent, she had never found one worth keeping. They either couldn't appreciate her as she was, or were too easily walked all over. Wednesday liked a partner with… with tenacity.

“You have my number,” she said instead of answering the posed question. She turned on her heel so Matilda wouldn't see her smile wider. She made her way for the door. “Ask for Wednesday.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their second encounter~.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter of this fic won an award! Entered in MAICon it won the best overall story~! You can see the certificate on Instagram, just look for KermodeSnowBear

Gnarled fingers picked up the telephone receiver and brought it to lips so dry that his voice gasped from between them. 

“The Addamses. You rang?” Lurch answered. 

“Yes, hello,” the bright voice chimed from the other end of the line. “I'm looking for Wednesday. Is she available?” 

A mangled groan left the butler as he slowly lowered the phone to call out to the young mistress. The house shuddered in reply, relating the message from Wednesday herself to the zombie-like man. 

“Wednesday is digging in the garden,” Lurch told the woman on the phone. 

“She gardens?” Matilda asked. The surprise in her voice was obvious. She hasn't expected the woman to have such a normal hobby, or enjoy being out in the daylight. 

“No,” Lurch replied with gruffly. “She's looking for her cat. Shall I take a message?” 

“Oh,” Matilda stammered for half a second. The man's statement had caught her off guard and she quickly and haphazardly formulated the words in her mind. “Yes, please. Tell her the owner of And Other Weird Stories called to, ah… well, her book isn't here yet but I did find it and it's being posted to me. It's expensive though and… I also wanted to ask Wednesday if she... Can you ask her to call me back, please?” 

Matilda wasn't quite sure if she should relay her true intentions to a man she didn't know, especially if Wednesday wasn't appreciative of such hopes. Not too many would take kind to being outed by a relative stranger to their butler. 

Lurch took down the number offered and promised to pass on the message, which he did the moment he ended the call. The man lumbered outside and shielded his eyes from the blinding sun. He found Wednesday exactly where he expected, digging up the overgrown garden in search for her beloved pet. 

“Who was it, Lurch?” she asked and stopped for a moment's break. The raven haired beauty stood tall, holding the shovel out in front of her and glanced around at the work she'd accomplished. Several holes dotted the garden beds to no avail. She wiped the nonexistent sweat from her dirty cheeks. 

“Owner of a bookstore,” he replied. He held out the paper he'd written the message on. Wednesday's eyes darted over the slip as she straightened. Her tongue licked at her lips as the memory of Matilda from only two days prior danced around her mind. 

“Lurch, could you drive me into town please?” Wednesday asked the man. “I believe I might have a date. And if not, I'll find another way to entertain myself. Jezebel obviously doesn't wish to be found.” 

She speared the shovel into the dirt, anchoring it in place as she jumped back onto the path. She brushed the dirt from her out of place denim overalls and strode into the house. 

Less than twenty minutes later Wednesday was the perfect image of the goddess of the underworld. Persephone would have been proud of the long, flowing skirt that rippled around Wednesday's ankles and the eyeliner wings that ended in points as sharp as daggers. Lips painted in black, Wednesday knew exactly how soul devouring she looked.

“That her?” Lurch asked when he slid the family hearse into an open parking space across the road from And Other Weird Stories. He stared through the glass windows at the brightly adorned woman packing shelves. “She doesn't look like your sort.” 

“And neither did Pubert when he had that awful phase,” Wednesday pointed out. She leaned in from the back seat, dropping her chin onto Lurch's shoulder. “But I still loved him. Matilda is the least melancholic person I've ever met, and yet she's very intelligent and not at all as routinely human as she seems to be. There's simply something almost arcane about her. Something intriguing that I can't put my finger on.”

She was offered a grunt in return, which she answered as easily as anyone might in an average conversation. “Don't worry yourself, Lurch. I'm a grown woman.” 

The man in the driver's seat grumbled a reply, half mumbled and hardly understandable.

“I appreciate the concern,” Wednesday continued. She then slipped from the car and placed the large brimmed hat atop her freely draping hair. “I'll call for you to pick me up should I need it. I don't expect it to be soon.” 

With the farewell stated, Wednesday glided across the road. She didn't hesitate to tap her nails loudly against the glass pane of the window front. Matilda started from within and spun. A smile lit up her face the moment she realised who was trying to catch her attention. 

“Wednesday, hi,” Matilda greeted when the raven haired woman entered the store. She shelved the book she held and turned to the guest. “It's a lovely day, isn't it?” 

“Blistering,” Wednesday replied honestly with a slight sneer of her lips. “Horribly bright and far too many people.” 

“Well, that usually means more business for me, so I'm not complaining,” Matilda commented, feeling quite awkward that her attempt at friendliness hadn't hit the mark. A second passed and she brightened again. “I found your book! I told your, butler was it? Yes, I told him it's quite expensive but I'm sure you knew that already. It's one of three ever made and was very difficult to pry out of the former owner's hands.” 

Matilda rounded Wednesday and strode to her counter. She collected her tablet and pulled up the pictures for the customer to see. 

Wednesday peered at the device and her black lips curled into a paralyzing smile. Matilda had trouble tearing her gaze away. 

“It's very expensive,” the shopkeeper warned before flicking to a screenshot of the conversation she had had with the previous owner. “Plus my own fees on top of that-”

“Should five thousand be enough then?” Wednesday asked nonchalantly. She reached for her bag and purse, pulling out a cheque book that was linked to the family account. She only looked up when Matilda hadn't replied. Wednesday raised her brows pointedly. 

“I was going to say it would be three and a half,” she stammered in reply, and Wednesday scoffed softly. She wrote out the original suggestion with curling loops of ink. 

“No other store in this dreadful city has even bothered to search for me, and I'll willfully admit that I don't know the industry,” Wednesday explained her decision. She tore the cheque free and handed it over. “I would like a receipt.” 

Matilda nodded and hurried back to her desk. She stowed the cheque away while Wednesday patiently waited. 

“You had something you wanted to ask me. Lurch said you didn't want to ask on the phone,” Wednesday reminded the other woman while the printer whirred. 

“I was curious if you had plans for the evening,” Matilda admitted in earnest. A soft smile played on her lips as she continued. “Or any other night. You don't seem to like the day, and I have to work, so I reasoned that nights would be best for both of us.” 

“The sun and I haven't been on good terms for a long time now,” Wednesday replied. Her eyes glistened with hidden stories. “So yes. An evening with you would be luridly welcome.” 

Matilda had to wonder if Wednesday purposefully used language in such a unique way. It was like melancholic poetry in a free and flowing form. Every word the gothic woman chose seemed to be by design, plucked from a dictionary with the sole intention of putting her peers on edge. Matilda was ensnared by it.

“Wonderful. I close the shop at five,” Matilda said. “You can stay and we could chat, or I'll meet you somewhere. Thursday’s there's an open poetry slam at Siren’s bar. Sound interesting?” 

“Much more exciting than what I had planned,” Wednesday responded.

“Looking for your cat?” 

“Yes. Jezebel will be fine for a few more days.” 

“Are you sure?” Matilda asked quickly. “Losing one’s pet isn't easy. It can be heartbreaking.” 

“Oh, no. She isn't lost,” Wednesday assured. “My brother buried her somewhere as a prank. She'll be fine.” 

Matilda’s eyes widened in bewilderment. 

“She will be,” Wednesday went on. “As long as I find her and dig her up before the new moon next week, she will be just as cadaverous as when I first found her.” 

“Your cat is already dead?” 

“Undead,” Wednesday corrected without missing a beat. “Why in hellfire would I keep a dead pet?” 

Matilda opened her mouth to respond yet nothing came out. Silence encompassed the pair before Wednesday let out unrestrained laughter that tiptoed the lines between haunting, menacing, and enchanting. The woman raised a hand and delicately tapped Matilda’s chin closed. 

“You'll catch flies, dear,” she told the brunette. She paused with pursed lips then continued. “Siren's, correct? I'll be there at half past five.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hoped you enjoyed this installment. As always, your comments fuel me to write more. I have plenty of ideas


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first date.

“How can you even walk in those?” 

Wednesday followed Matlida's gaze down her own legs, right to her platform shoes adorned with silver spikes and charms. The soles were perched on the bar stool's supports and her feet sat several inches higher. 

“With poise and many stares,” Wednesday replied with a laughing curl of her lips. She gestured to the stool beside her while speaking up over the voices of other patrons in the bar. “Did you want to sit here or find somewhere more... intimate?”

Matilda loved the way Wednesday drew out the question, and cast her eyes across the bar. She noticed a dark corner near a low stage at the back of the room and spotted a booth in the dim lighting.

“Your drink,” a new voice interrupted them both. “Can I get you anything?” A glass was placed down in front of the goth.

Matilda turned to find a bartender speaking to them. “Yes, please. What are you having, Wednesday?” 

“It's the inevitable failure of humanity,” she declared and held up the lowball glass of swirling liquid. The cream brandy cascaded like clouds into the clear liquor below. 

“It's a nuclear fallout cocktail,” the bartender spoke up. “Want one?”

“I think I'll have a wine,” Matilda replied. “Merlot, if you have it.” 

The man nodded and ducked away to fulfill the order. Matilda turned her attention back to Wednesday. 

“Somewhere quieter would be nice,” she finally agreed, and Wednesday slid off the stool. Thanks to her shoes, she stood taller than Matilda. 

“You go ahead,” Wednesday suggested. “Snare it before someone else dares to try.”

“My drink-”

“I'll pay.” 

“But I asked you out tonight,” Matilda protested as her cheeks glowed. 

“You can buy the next round,” Wednesday offered. The other woman hesitated for a moment. 

“Alright, but don't spike my drink,” Matilda replied with an even gaze. “I'll be watching.” 

“If I wanted to drug you, I wouldn't have gone anywhere public,” Wednesday replied with a pointed brow rising. “Trust me. You're safe.”

With that promise in mind, yet not entirely believed, Matilda strode across the room and slipped into one side of the booth. Her long, floral skirt gathered around her calves as she twisted to look back, just in time to see the bartender put down the wine glass and take money from Wednesday. Moments later, the raven haired woman was turning away from the bar with glasses in hand. She sauntered across the room, hips swaying rhythmically to the loud music.

“Your untainted wine,” Wednesday said as she slid into the booth opposite Matilda. The glass was pushed across. The brunette woman smiled in thanks and took a sip. 

“I didn't actually think you would,” Matilda offered with an apologetic little smile, but Wednesday wasn't bothered. She removed her hat and patted her hair flat again. 

“You can never be too careful with strangers,” Wednesday had to agree. “Many humans are vile creatures with fewer morals than a fanatic religious politician in court.” 

Matilda coughed in shock and a laughing smile found her lips. “I know I've read books that were kinder than people I've met.” 

“Owning a bookstore, I'm not surprised. I trust you're a well read woman?” 

“I like to think so. I was raised by a wonderful teacher and enjoyed most of school.” 

“Most of?” Wednesday prompted. She leant forward over her glass to listen more intently.

“I started late, and my first year wasn't the… most educational. But I learnt a lot about myself so I count that as something.” 

“Sometimes learning about one's self is the hardest.” 

“That's very true,” Matilda agreed. “Did you always know you were…?” she asked and gestured to the woman across from her.

“Gay?” 

“Goth.”

A laugh bubbled from Wednesday's black lips. 

“My family is all a little bit strange,” she told her date. “Mother and Father are luridly romantic; my older brother is an insanely intelligent inventor; my younger brother is possibly the luckiest teenager around, no matter what soul has control; Grandmama is a certified witch; and my extended family are all very ghoulishly welcoming. Each have their own little quirks, and all of us are morbidly inclined. Except one aunt, but she married in. And Pubert, sometimes.” 

Matilda had hung on every word, both enthralled and confused by the list. “Which one is Pubert?” 

“My youngest brother.” 

“The one with more than one soul?” 

Wednesday nodded. “Sometimes Luci takes over. His hair turns blond so it's not hard to know when.” 

Matilda had to take a second to think of her next question. “Does he dye it or… does it literally turn blond of its own accord?” 

“Of its own accord,” Wednesday confirmed. The question was strangely refreshing from the usual reactions. “Then when Pubert returns it becomes black again.” 

“So Pubert and Luci share the same body, and their hair changes colour depending on whom has control? And this is a normal thing in your family?” 

“For Pubert, yes. No one else does that,” Wednesday laughed at the question as if it were obvious. 

Matilda didn't share the laugh. She leaned forward across the table and lowered her voice, which barely held the excitement at bay. Her theory wasn't that much of a stretch, and Wednesday had said her grandmother was a witch. “Magic?”

“Is a soul magic?” was Wednesday's earnest reply. Matilda didn't know how to reply. The raven went to speak further but was interrupted by a shadow falling over their table. The women looked up from each other to find two figures standing over them. 

“Ladies, hi,” one of the men, brunet and flexing his biceps, announced quite a bit louder than necessary. “I'm Ethan and this is Ozzy. Mind if we join yous?” 

They weren't given the choice as the men dropped into a seat each. Matilda instantly made room so she didn't have to be touched by the dreadlocked Ozzy. She scooted right into the corner of the bench and the intruder took it as an invitation to get comfortable. 

Wednesday wasn't so docile and yielding. She stayed put, allowing Ethan only half a butt cheek worth of seat. He balanced precariously on the edge and put his beer on the table.

“We do mind, actually,” Wednesday spoke up sternly. “We are here on a date and would appreciate if you left us be.” 

“Think you got stood up, ladies,” Ozzy spoke up. He'd slid up until his knee bumped against Matilda's. Her lips were set in a rigid line. “But that's okay, ‘cause we can fill the role. You won't even notice the difference.” 

“You misunderstood me,” Wednesday attempted to correct. “We, as in my friend and I, are on the date. There are no men. We don't need any men. Leave.” 

“Right on, girl power,” Ethan laughed and held up his hand for a high five. Wednesday didn't move, so his friend slapped the hand. “We don't mind. We can totally make this a group thing.” 

Even as the goth glowered with daggers in her eyes, the men didn't seem phased. Matilda could see the energy burning to be unleashed, but Wednesday still didn't raise her voice. In fact, it lowered into a hushed tone. 

“We will not,” she told them. “We will never even sully our minds with the mere thought of fornicating with your disease riddled flesh sacks. Your breath alone is so nauseating, the idea of kissing that mouth will surely give anyone nightmares for weeks.” 

“I think she said she wants to kiss you!” 

Matilda concluded the men were drunk. Very, very drunk by the evidence presented. Each had a beer with them, coupled with the breath, the glassy eyes, and the complete lack of personal space or self preservation. Matilda started to get mad. She and Wednesday had been having a wonderful time! Her anger turned to ice cold fear as the man beside her draped an arm around her shoulders.

“I did not,” Wednesday corrected, anger rippling into her voice. “And if your fingers creep any further up my thigh I will break every single one of them.” 

Ethan's hands went up with a laugh. “I was just playing, sexy. Don't you like to play?” The man was beyond stupid. He reached out toward Wednesday's face for what must have been an attempt to brush at her hair. The action ended up being a clumsy grope of her cheek. 

Teeth flashed as black lips parted. A scream ripped from Ethan's throat as flesh was torn from his hand. Wednesday's chin glistened red as the blood dripped down her skin. Silence descended upon the bar for several long moments before the screaming started again.

“She bit me! She fucking bit me!” 

Everyone was staring now, and security were jumping to do their job. Wednesday leveled her eyes with the man across from her. “Get your hands off of my date,” she commanded and he did so instantly. Matilda breathed a heavy sigh of relief and, despite the violent display, shot Wednesday a grateful smile. 

A bouncer from the front of the bar rounded on the table and yanked the two men from their seats. Ethan sobbed as he clutched his bleeding hand. 

“Kick the bitch out!” he demanded, really misreading the bouncer's scowl. “She fucking bit me!” 

“She's probably got rabies, man!” his friend joined in the hysterics. “She's fucking rabbid!” 

“Did he touch you first?” the bouncer surprised everyone by asking. 

Wednesday nodded and licked at her lips. “I warned him.” 

“The fuck?! She was into it!” Ethan objected. 

“Good enough for me,” the bouncer replied as he ignored the drunk. “Out, boys!” 

There were further complaints as they were quite literally dragged from the bar by the bouncer and another worker. Matilda watched them go with a dropped jaw and wide eyes. The drunk men were almost to the door when one broke away. Ozzy had turned, angry and fast he came running. 

“You fucking dykes!” he yelled, one arm raised as he pushed through the crowd toward the women. 

Matilda saw him first and her own rage burst. A plan formed. Her gaze locked on her targets. A dozen or so drinks on tables just ahead of him exploded and glass rained down to the floor, spilling alcohol along with gasps from patrons. Ozzy slipped and fell onto the shards, glass daggers through his skin. 

Matilda only turned back to Wednesday when the man was dragged outside for the last time. The gothic woman was regarding her date with an intrigued and curious expression. She'd obviously noticed the unnatural event. Matilda offered a shy, closed lipped smile and tried to glance away but her attention was caught by Wednesday's appearance.

“You've got a little…” Matilda uttered and gestured to the woman's mouth. Wednesday made a purposeful show of licking the blood from them before actually taking a small mirror from her handbag and cleaning herself up. Matilda was sure the other could hear the hammering heart in her own chest.

“Better?” 

Matilda nodded. 

“Now, back to just us,” Wednesday went on as she put back the mirror and turned her attention fully on her date. She picked up her drink to take a long sip. 

Matilda did the same. “Do you remember what we were talking about?”

“Magic.” 

Matilda stilled. “Wasn't it… souls? Your brother?” 

Wednesday couldn't help but find such a reaction odd, considering how eager Matilda had been on the topic not ten minutes ago. Now the brunette woman was avoiding it, as if with the supernatural event of glasses shattering at the exact right moment to stop an insult slinging fiend bent on their injury was indeed something magical and maybe, just maybe, her fault. 

“Yes, my brother,” Wednesday responded, deciding not to interrogate the obviously frightened woman. “But what of your family?” 

“Mine?” Matilda asked, obviously both thankful and a tad confused that her date had so willingly changed subject. “I was adopted by a teacher, so it's just Jennifer and I at home. She's my mother.” 

“That's… all?” Wednesday asked in reply. She had such a large and widespread family that having a single parental figure seemed strange to her. 

“That's all,” Matilda confirmed. “Jennifer had more family but most have passed on or moved away. I have no contact with my biological family anymore.” 

“So, you knew them?” Wednesday asked. 

“I did. Until I was seven I lived with my biological mother, father, and brother. I encouraged them to give me up after asking Jennifer.”

“You asked to be adopted out of your family?” 

Matilda nodded. “They never showed me affection or understood me, and I never got along with any of them,” she claimed. “And then my father got himself into some trouble with the law so they decided to leave. I chose then to show them the adoption papers I'd acquired. They signed me over to Jennifer without a fuss and I've been with her since then.” 

Wednesday took a moment to think. A light frown had settled on her features and she found herself perplexed by Matilda all over again. 

“Is something wrong?” Matilda asked. 

“Such a small family…” Wednesday responded slowly and still in thought. “I can't comprehend such. There are nine people alone in my home. Plus the random family members that visit regularly. To think there is only yourself and your mother… it is so strange to me.” 

Matilda couldn't help a small smile gracing her lips. “Nine?” she asked. “I can't comprehend nine!” 

“Mother, Father, Pugsly, Pubert, Grandmama, Lurch, Thing, Uncle Fester, and myself,” Matilda confirmed. 

“You have someone called Thing?”

“He's our handservant.” 

“You have a butler and a handservant?” 

Wednesday nodded. 

Matilda shook her head in disbelief, still smiling at the other woman. “We're as different as chalk and cheese.”

“I think I'm the chalk,” Wednesday offered with a laugh and a gesture to her pale skin. A laugh burst from Matilda's lips at that, and Wednesday found herself falling in love with the feminine chuckle. “And I also think that you are enchanting.” 

Matilda’s hazel eyes blew wide and her cheeks flooded with a rose hue. The compliment was so different from any she'd ever received before and said with such honesty that Matilda was rendered silent for several moments as she tried to control the giant grin from spreading too far. 

“Thank you,” the brunette woman murmured from behind downcast eyes. Wednesday reached across the table then, her fingers brushing Matlida’s chin to raise her face again. Matilda almost felt electricity run through her. 

“You are most welcome,” Wednesday replied. Her thumb brushed Matilda's jaw for the briefest of seconds, then pulled away. It left Matilda instantly missing the touch. 

Their moment was interrupted by the music coming to an end and not going to the next song. Lights were turned on over the small stage and a young woman toed her way up to the microphone. Wednesday swiveled in her seat to watch as the woman on stage began to speak. She welcomed everyone and was greeted with tipsy cheers from the crowd as people moved to find seats or line up toward the stage. 

Matilda settled further into her seat, elbows leaning on the table and rested her still tingling chin on her hands. She glanced at Wednesday several times as the first person got up to the mic and began to recite their poem. She watched as Wednesday looked on intently, noticing how the raven's focused eyes locked onto the entertainment. 

Words escaped her comprehension. The brunette hardly heard a single thing until she was broken from her thoughts by polite applause which she stammered to join. Wednesday turned to regard her date. 

“You did not miss much,” she informed Matilda. “It wasn't all that inspiring.” 

Matilda offered a grimacing smile in response as another eager poet mounted the stage. This time she tried to focus on them instead of on Wednesday.

“I think some of that language was constructed by Dr. Seuss,” Matilda commented as the young woman on stage kept going. Wednesday leaned closer to the other. 

“I think a lot of it is,” the goth agreed. “However, using the playwright Shakespeare as an example, language is a very loose construct that can easily change by one person's influence.” 

Matilda's head tilted to the side slightly. The other was right. “Language is ever-evolving,” she agreed. Somehow Wednesday was showing more and more traits that Matilda loved. Had she have known, she would have called the woman sooner! “But I believe when writing your own creations, you probably shouldn't use such neologisms.” 

“But then how do such words become commonplace?” Wednesday asked in reply. Matilda went to defend her opinion but hesitated. Her mouth hung open for a long moment before she slowly nodded. 

“You have a point. Words like ‘avo,’ or ‘bae,’ or ‘fam’ wouldn't be so prominent in our culture without someone first using the word and others following suit.” 

Applause rippled through the room and the two women turned to add their own. They eased into silence as several more poets bared their souls to the world. Expressive and impassioned words flooded the ears of the audience, every set of eyes on the stage with rapt attention. The line to the stage got shorter and shorter. 

There was only one person waiting when Wednesday turned and dug into her handbag. She pulled out a worn notebook and flicked through a few pages until she found what she was looking for. She muttered a few words to herself, then spoke to Matilda. 

“Choose one,” she commanded. “‘Rain,’ or ‘My Heart.’ I promise one is much darker than the other.” 

“Do I get to see them before choosing?”

Wednesday shook her head. “That would ruin the surprise.” 

Matilda laughed softly at that. “‘My Heart’ seems appropriate, don't you think?” 

Wednesday nodded and stood. “Look after my bag, please.” Then she was sauntering across the room. The man before her finished, and the emcee gestured the goth onto the stage. 

“Last one, folks,” the chipper woman announced and that alone got an applause. Wednesday stood unmoving center stage. “What's your name, sweetie?” 

“Wednesday Addams,” Wednesday offered. The emcee blinked for a second, but smiled a moment later.

“What have you got for us, Wednesday?” 

“A collection of words arranged in a way to carry meaning and emotion.” 

“Well… you've come to the right place! Give Wednesday a warm welcome, folks.” 

A polite and awkward round of claps were offered, the loudest coming from a single woman with her glass of wine. Wednesday took the microphone with a small nod of thanks.

“This is called My Heart, and is in freeform,” the goth offered the audience. She allowed a pregnant silence to fill the room before she began. The woman's voice seemed to drop. It was low, guttural in tone, dripping with an eerie and sensual passion.

“You lay in my hands, my heart,   
Deflated,  
Stammering,   
Quaking. 

I touch you again,  
A poke,  
A prod,   
Barely a gentle nudge and you spurt,   
Rivulets of scarlet stream down my hands.

You swell again in shuddering hesitance,   
With a dying breath you grow,  
Shivering,   
Surging.

You strain in my fingers,   
Staining them with your life,   
A painted blossom against my pale skin. 

The effort of existence overwhelms you,  
And you shudder one final time,   
Giving up,   
Dying. 

Perhaps,  
If I had not ripped you from your home amongst my ribs,   
We might have both survived.” 

Several moments passed, deathly silence filling her ears. A smirk fell upon her lips as she dipped into a half curtsy, then gracefully strutted her way back to her seat. Matilda sat there, staring at the goth, awestruck. 

“That was-” the brunet whispered, just as the emcee got back on stage. 

“That was… unique! Really… deep! Let's give Wednesday a clap, yeah?” 

Polite and disjointed applause started, with one random patron whistling and far too eager compared to the rest.

“So, what did you think?” Wednesday asked. 

Matilda hesitated. “How truthful do you want me to be?” 

“Brutally.” 

“You used the word ‘again’ too much for my liking. You could have changed that for something different. And the last line was rather… clunky. You could have made it far more precise and it would have portrayed your story better. I absolutely loved it.” 

Wednesday's face lit up like a flame lighting a mausoleum. 

“But you could have warned me that was the darker poem.” 

“Oh, but it wasn't,” Wednesday objected. “That was very tame for what I usually write.” 

There was a pause before Matilda burst into a torrent of giggles. “Perhaps you could show me?” she asked, honestly intrigued. 

“How about I come by the store some time?” the goth suggested. She could have sworn she felt a flurry of moths in her stomach upon hearing that laugh. “I could distract you from work, and you could distract me from the burning sun.” 

“That almost sounds like a second date, Wednesday,” Matilda pointed out with a curling smile. 

“Ambushing you at work? No. But I will take you out for dinner afterwards.” 

“Sounds perfect. Speaking of food, what do you like?” 

They launched back into casual conversation, the world passing them by for hours as they nursed wines and cocktails, ordered snacks, and laughed at each other's anecdotes. They learnt things about each other they never would have guessed; like Wednesday's love for classical dance, and Matilda's ability to absorb whatever she read at near unprecedented levels. They continued to talk until long past midnight, even as they made their way out of the bar. They strolled down the street toward the shop once more, taking their time as neither really wanted the night to end.

“What do you like doing on Tuesdays?” Matilda asked with mirth in her eyes and a smile. The goth glanced at the woman, smirking at the question but answering. 

“Tuesdays are for family rituals.”

“Like picnics and board games?” Matilda doubted this. 

“Like offerings to our chosen deity. Such depends on the month or current events.” 

“May I ask what religion?” the brunette tentatively asked. “I won't judge. Unless it's Scientology.” 

Wednesday snorted a breath through her nose, which Matilda had come to understand was the woman laughing. “Satanism, dear. With a little bit of Wicca.” 

Matilda was silent, glancing down at the ground with a soft frown, so Wednesday continued. “Is that a problem?” 

“Not at all!” Her eyes found Wednesday's instantly. “I'm trying to remember what I know about those. But I don't think I've read much on them,” she confessed. 

“I can teach you if you like.” 

“I would like that,” Matilda replied, thankfulness in her tone. “I like learning.” 

“As I've noticed,” Wednesday said with a breathy chuckle. 

“What does Wednesday do on Wednesdays?” 

“I usually study,” Wednesday replied. “Thanatology and psychology at the moment. I'm not quite sure what I really want to do with my existence. I've also taken short courses in French and Russian history, Latin, and a little biochemistry.” 

“Thanatology?” Matilda had to ask. “The science of death. You can take a class in that?” 

“Online, yes. There is no local institution that teaches it, and I don't wish to move away from my family.” 

“I can see that being a small problem. So you don't work?” 

Wednesday shook her head. “My parents believe in the pursuit of knowledge over working in a job one doesn't absolutely love.” 

“That's a good philosophy. Jennifer is very much the same. She encouraged me to stay in school for as long as I wished.” 

“We seem to have quite similar parental figures,” Wednesday noted. 

The two walked past And Other Weird Stories, Matilda leading the way around to the back. She stopped by a tiny, bright green car and fished out her keys. 

“Would you like a ride home, Wednesday?” the brunette asked. 

“No need. Lurch will be along shortly.” 

Matilda blinked for half a second. “...How?” she asked. ”You don't have a phone and I don't think I saw you make any calls…” 

“He simply will be. Lurch always knows when we need something.” 

“Alright… if you're sure.” 

A moment passed, Wednesday smiling just a little at Matilda's disbelief. 

“I had a nice evening, Matilda. It was…” the goth paused, searching for a word that played on her tongue. “Magical.” 

Matilda froze on the spot. “So… you saw that,” she whispered with fear in her voice. 

“I did,” Wednesday admitted. She then nonchalantly shrugged, which confused Matilda. “Don't worry yourself. I've seen stranger things before.” 

Matilda visibly relaxed, a smile finding her lips once more. “You know, I don't doubt that,” she commented. As if to prove a point, headlights suddenly illuminated the pair before turning. A hearse pulled into the parking lot behind the store. 

“That would be Lurch,” Wednesday advised. 

“He would be hard to miss in such a vehicle.”

“We are a large family,” Wednesday reminded. “Plus, I'll admit, it is good for aesthetics.” 

That had Matilda laughing a little bit, shaking her head despite the smile. 

“I should probably go,” Wednesday said, having glanced over at the tinted windows, knowing without seeing him that Lurch was watching. He was protective of the young Addams. 

“Before you do,” Matilda quickly said, hand reaching out to hesitantly brush at Wednesday's arm. “Do you bite everyone who tries to kiss you?” 

A smirk curled onto Wednesday's lips. “Only those who deserve it, or those who ask for it.” 

“I'm not asking, not for a first date kiss. Nor do is believe I deserve it.” 

“You do not,” the goth agreed. She then dipped a delicate kiss to Matilda's smile. The moment was sweet, if fleeting. As soon as Matilda relaxed into the feeling, it was gone. Both women smiled at each other in an easy silence. 

The car behind Wednesday beeped, causing her to glance away for half a second. “Lurch is waiting,” she murmured to the other. 

“You'd best be going,” Matilda agreed. They both hesitated in leaving, their arms brushing and gazes locked; all until Matilda stretched her body up to kiss Wednesday again. 

It was just as chaste, but it sent electricity through each woman in turn. When they parted, Wednesday offered a final grasp of Matilda's hand then stepped away. She took a few steps backward, watching the magical woman that had walked into her life by accident. She only turned to step into the car. She waved from behind the dark glass, unseen, but she still did so. The hearse pulled away from the parking lot and onto the quiet streets. 

Matilda watched the car go, her fingers finding her lips as she quietly sighed and leaned against her own vehicle. She had to wonder how someone so dark, so brooding, and so morbid could kiss like an angel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out my Instagram or Facebook (same name) for my physical creations~


End file.
